


The Black Sea

by Inu_Sama



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, BAMF!Bilbo, Canon-Typical Violence, Creature!Bilbo, M/M, Slow To Update, Sporadic Updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-01-10 00:44:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12287652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inu_Sama/pseuds/Inu_Sama
Summary: Today was a great day, Bilbo was sure of it. The sun felt so good on his skin, the birds sung beautifully from the nearby trees and…. There was a familiar wizard blocking his view of the Shire.





	1. An unpleasant surprise

Bilbo was soaking up the marvelous sunlight that carried the sweet scent of summer under it's wings. Dragging in a large breath of smoke from the long wooden pipe he held delicately between his fingers, the hobbit expertly exhaled a string of ghostly rings that were picked up by the breeze and quickly dispersed before his eyes. Today was a great day, Bilbo was sure of it. The sun felt so good on his skin, the birds sung beautifully from the nearby trees and…. There was a familiar wizard blocking his view of the Shire.

Bilbo didn’t outwardly startle but his thoughts did stutter and he exhaled the smoke filling his lungs in surprise.

“Good Morning,” He greeted politely, watching the old meddler closely. He had heard stories about this Maia from his mother, with his pension for fireworks and whisking fauntlings away from their homes in the name of ‘adventure’. Yes, in all these years the wizard hadn’t deviated from his mother’s descriptions. The being in question smiled benignly before speaking in a voice gravelled with age.

“Do you mean to tell me that it is a morning in which you find it to be good? Or that you simply feel good this morning? Perhaps it is a morning to be good on?” The wizard riddled, leaning against his staff leisurely as he waited for the hobbit’s response. Bilbo felt a spike of irritation, not in the mood for a convoluted conversation with someone his mother had warned him against several times growing up. He could not be trusted, his ability to weave intricate webs to ensnare unsuspecting victims. Well, not him. Not today.

The hobbit relaxed back into the oddly shaped wooden bench that sat in his front garden and closed his eyes to the sunlight once again.

“What do you want, Gandalf?” he asked calmly, hearing the surprised intake of breath in front of him. Of course he would know who Gandalf was, did the Maia forget who his parents were?

“Master Baggins, I would like to have dinner with you this night. We have important things to discuss and it would best be done over some delicious steak and potatoes.” The manipulator smiled, still outside the little iron gate that separated them.

Bilbo cracked an eye open to stare at the wizard incredulously.

“Do I have a choice?” He asked, knowing the answer but needing to hear him reply anyway. He looked taken aback, expression morphing into one of pity.

“My boy, we always have a choice.” He said somberly, passing his staff to the other hand, no longer leaning on it for support. The Maia turned to leave and was halfway down the path when he called over his shoulder.

“So I’ll see you at six?” Bilbo sighed, somewhat exasperated. He wanted to continue his sunbathing but the clouds had rolled in, alerting him that it was late afternoon already.

He could have sworn it was just past lunch when Gandalf had shown up. Bilbo eyed the others’ retreating form with suspicion. But he was hungry, and his only reason for being outside was the warmth from the sunlight so Bilbo went back inside the family smial to prepare afternoon tea. He pretended to ignore the heavy footsteps he could hear approaching and put the kettle on. There was a scratching sound before the footsteps retreated once more, the gate closing with a soft clink as Gandalf left his property for the second time that day. Curious, but also wary, Bilbo waited a beat to make sure the Maia was gone before opening his front door.

As expected, there was a dwarvish rune carved into the greenwood. It glowed a soft ice blue in the rapidly fading light. He couldn’t read dwarvish, but Bilbo was no fool. Closing the door, the hobbit ate a small afternoon tea before going into the pantry and pulling out all he would need for dinner. It was highly likely he would be entertaining more than just Gandalf this evening so Bilbo emptied his cupboards to prepare a feast. He had often heard that dwarrows travelled in packs and he would not bring shame to the Baggins name by not having enough food for all his guests.

But just because he was to act as the perfect host his upbringing demanded, did _not_ mean he wouldn’t have strong words with the well-known fireworks expert. A few hours later almost everything was ready, the soup just had to boil for a little bit longer. Bilbo was just setting the table when the doorbell rang, feeling like an ominous warning that things were going to change around here. Bilbo smoothed the wrinkles in his burgundy waistcoat and swiped the curly fringe from his eyes. Time to begin.


	2. Dwarrows, honestly....

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dinner with the company, gandalf gets a thorough tongue lashing and Thorin isn't what you expected, right? Hope you enjoy it  
> let me know in the comments how i did, constructive criticism is welcome.

“Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf greeted before pushing past Bilbo at the smell of delicious food cooking inside. Bilbo could feel his eye twitch with irritation. ‘ _ Dwarrows, I swear….. _ ’ Bilbo thought with no small amount of exasperation. “Excuse me, I am not familiar with dwarvish custom, but here in the Shire you  _ wait at the door to be invited in _ .” He growled, wrapping a hand around a thick bicep before strong-arming a creature twice his size in both height and weight, back to the porch. 

The dwarf stood there in shock, how could this tiny being have that much strength? Dwalin didn’t know much about Hobbits, but he’d never heard anything about them being anything more than timid farmers with curly hair and that they didn’t need shoes. Was that why Gandalf wanted his help? Because he was more than just a Hobbit? Either way, as the hobbit stood before him with crossed arms and a foot tapping angrily on the stone, Dwalin figured it would be best to just do as he was told. His gut was telling him things wouldn’t end well for him if he pissed the hobbit off. So Dwalin bowed, swift and low like he would for his lord and spoke clearly. 

“I apologise for my behaviour, I had forgotten where I was. Please allow me to introduce myself; I am Dwalin, son of Fundin and I am at your service.” He recited, feeling the temperature rise again to a normal summer level. He hadn’t realised how cold it had been before, was it the Hobbit’s doing? Bilbo deflated as his anger left him, he hadn’t expected such a turnabout of attitude from a dwarf, but he had no choice but to accept the apology. He was the host after all. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours. You may come in, I believe the first course is ready. But do please leave your boots and weapons at the door.” Bilbo instructed, letting the stranger named Dwalin back into his home. 

The dwarf did as instructed, going so far as to hang them along with his coat on the hooks that lined the walls beside the front door. Bilbo nodded in approval before leading the other to his washroom. A good host provides his guests with everything they might need and this dwarf was in need of a bath immediately. Dwalin looked both excited and offended, but happily agree to a bath and Bilbo left him to it as he wandered back to the kitchen to check on the food still cooking. A hearty stew was the first course and he was keeping it warm by leaving it next to the hearth on a small stool. No doubt a hot and filling meal would be appreciated. It appeared these dwarrows had travelled a long way and even though they were uninvited, he would be damned if he didn’t take care of them. His parents would be proud.

The next would be steak and potatoes, as the Maia had wanted, the last a desert that was best made in the Shire; strawberry and cream jam tarts. Everything he used was fresh and nutritious which lead to the creation of the best tart these dwarrows will have ever experienced. Bilbo was certain of it. Gandalf, though, he would be getting a meal fit for a manipulating wizard in retribution for his actions. Bilbo grinned ferally at the concoction he had simmering off to the side. His mother was a herbalist so he knew all sorts of things about the powers of nature. He also knew how to hide the smell, Gandalf wouldn’t know what hit him. Bilbo had the urge to cackle madly, but thought it would be inappropriate so he squashed it down as another knock sounded on the door.

As predicted, another dwarf stood on his doorstep looking like he hadn’t had a decent bath in weeks. But the one thing that stood out was the axe blade protruding from his forehead. “Bifur, at your service.” Bilbo was ready this time and easily pushed the dwarf back, getting the same stunned expression but this time it quickly devolved into anger. “How dare you! You’re just a halfling! Let me in!” he roared, not fazing Bilbo in the least. He had always had a thick skin and he didn’t fear these beings as most of the time they were all bark and no bite. Even if they did bite, Bilbo wasn’t weak.

“Are you quite finished? If not I am content to leave you out here until you are. I will not have you in my house until you apologise and properly introduce yourself.” Then Bilbo promptly shut the door on Bifur’s face, much to the amusement of a now clean and dressed Dwalin. He clapped Bilbo on the back as he walked past, almost making the hobbit stumble forward if he didn’t have a hand on the door. “I like you, you’ve got guts.” The gruff man chuckled, sitting down at the already set table. Dwalin looked to be waiting patiently for his meal and Bilbo couldn’t help but smile. This dwarf was odd, so easily tamed. He just hoped the others would be similar.

Bilbo locked the door, ignoring the expletives coming from the other side and went to fetch Dwalin’s share. The dwarrow made a surprisingly cute happy noise when he got his first taste of the stew and Bilbo decided Dwalin was his favourite so far. Suddenly outside was quiet and there was an irritated knock on his door. Bilbo smirked, stalking over to the aged wood and opening it to find a bowing Bifur. He said much the same as Dwalin had, though with a strong undercurrent of annoyance and hurt pride. Bilbo accepted it anyway and lead the new guest to the washroom like he had with Dwalin.

Bifur begrudgingly gave thanks before closing the door to wash. Bilbo repeated the process until everyone but Gandalf and someone named Thorin had arrived. For the first time in years, the Baggins’ smial was full of life and energy. The dwarves talked with each other like old friends, the older regaling the younger with tales of past adventures and light banter between brothers or cousins. It filled Bilbo’s heart with warmth, seeing such merriment again. It had been a long time since his parents had passed away that he had begun to think he would never experience it again. Though this was the result of Gandalf’s tricks, the dwarves in his home were starting to go on him. Dwalin and him were becoming fast friends and things had simmered between him and bifur.

Fili and Kili were fighting over the last tart when hopefully the  _ last  _ knock resounded through the rowdy room. The dwarves settled then, all eyes turned to the door with baited breath. “They’re here.” Dwalin said, the statement somehow sounding more foreboding in the sudden quiet. It was then Bilbo remembered why he was hosting a gaggle of dwarves in his home and the anger rushed back. The Took blood from his mother’s side taking over, their tempers were infamous amongst their people. He opened the door with a sharp smile. “Gandalf, how nice of you to join us.” The wizard looked decidedly wary of the small creature in front of them, stepping back so Thorin was in the Hobbit’s way.

True enough, the sudden fear from his companion was warranted as said creature continued to cut the Maia down to size. It was amusing to watch, until those summer green eyes were fixed on him. Thorin wasn’t stupid enough to shove his status in this being’s face, demanding respect. He knew more about Hobbit culture than his companions, knew that they didn’t flaunt their wealth and status like other races. Doing that would be the quickest way to get on their thief’s bad side. So even though it hurt his pride, Thorin bowed and introduced himself with a brief mention to his standing in the dwarvish realm. 

When he straightened, it was to the astonished faces of his company and the approving gaze of his host. “Bilbo Baggins, at your service. Please come in and leave your weapons and boots at the door, I made sure to save some for any latecomers.” Bilbo said, pleased with the dwarf king’s intelligence. At least he didn’t have to throttle him like he had the others, this may be more fun than he had initially thought. With one last dirty glare at the wizard, Bilbo led the king through to the washroom, smiling when he was thanked for his hospitality. Thorin was by far the most polite and well-behaved dwarf Bilbo had ever known.

He came back into the main room to find Gandalf standing awkwardly by the door where he had left him. Bilbo couldn’t help but laugh at the Maia, he looked like a scolded child. “Come, old friend. Sit down, I’ll bring you a bowl of my mother’s special broth.” The wizard obeyed, more relaxed and like himself now that he thought he was forgiven. Only the dwarves saw the vicious smirk cross the hobbit’s face as he headed toward the kitchen. It sent a thrill of apprehension down their spines at the expression. Yes, there was definitely more to this creature than he was letting on.


	3. The Contract

Bilbo tried to keep his cool as he watched Gandalf tuck into a plate of steak and potatoes, having finished the broth quite quickly. The effects of the herbs wouldn’t take effect until the morning, they had to work their way through his system first. He looked over the floor-length contract he had been given, making sure to read it thoroughly. Bilbo mentally noted any loopholes or things that just flat out needed to be changed, like the stipulation that he would only get three meals a day. “What are you doing?!” Thorin shouted when he saw the halfling  _ tear his contract in half _ . Bilbo looked up, nonplussed as he let the hearth eat what remained of the contract. “I will not sign for such inhumane garbage, thank you.” Bilbo made sure to breathe through his nose and out his mouth, keeping a tight leash on his temper - something the dwarf king evidently had little practice in.

It seemed the pleasantness earlier had been nothing but a facade as Bilbo was starting to see the pigheaded royal idiot that was really before him. Balin, ever the diplomat, rushed to soothe the tension in the room before it became something more. “I’m sorry, lad. But could you please tell us what was wrong with it so we can draw up another one? We are pressed for time, you see.” Bilbo made his posture relax and turned to the other dwarf, back to the polite hobbit he was raised to be. “Yes, well.” And Bilbo ran through the points he had noted were unfair in terms of his position, keeping the loopholes to himself. He may need them later on and Bilbo was nothing if not a firm believer of self preservation.

“What do you mean, you need more food? You’re only a wee little halfling!” Bifur spat, evidently the ‘truce’ over dinner had been only that; over dinner. Bilbo opened his mouth to once again whip the angry dwarf back into line when Gandalf beat him to it. The maia was leaning on the mantelpiece - and boy did this wizard do anything but lean on things?! - and drew from his pipe before speaking. “What he means, Bifur, is that Hobbits have a different makeup than what you do. They have a much higher metabolism than any other species. A normal hobbit needs to eat at least several meals a day.” Bilbo nodded, a confirmation to the dwarrows that swivelled their heads to gawk at him.

Thorin groaned, pinching the bridge of his long nose. He was tired, he just wanted to sleep in a real bed for once. They would be on the road tomorrow and the long journey to the mountain would not guarantee that luxury. “Alright, fine. But you have to find it yourself, we cannot spare the rations to fill your huge gut.” Balin was about to argue that that wasn’t right, but Bilbo found himself nodding. He could do that, he was an excellent hunter. And with his knowledge of herbs and other plants he would easily be able to find edible berries and the like. It would be tough, but not impossible. But there was one other thing that had yet to be addressed. “I also have an issue about payment.” Bilbo started, immediately getting cut off by Bifur, the hothead, who saw that as him wanting more than his fair share of the rewards.

“You greedy little bastard! You will not be getting more than 1/14th as was agreed!” Bifur shouted, breathing like a wounded hog as he struggled to stay in his seat. They had moved to the sitting room after dinner to discuss matters, though most of them had gone to bed once the arguing had begun, too tired to listen to it. Thorin wished he could do that, just leave without being noticed. But he couldn’t, he was the king, the leader of this expedition. He had to be there, had to make sure everything went as planned. Thorin didn’t really know why the maia wanted the hobbit, but he was insistent and Thorin was inclined to listen to the being who was much older and wiser than him. At least, that’s what he told himself so he didn’t punch the infuriating wizard.

“Bifur, shut up.” Thorin sighed, now thoroughly exhausted. The dwarf in question looked like he was about to explode again, but instead chose to stomp out of the room. He couldn’t disobey his lord, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. Bilbo eyed the dwarrow king, unsure whether sending the hothead out of the room was for his sanity or the king’s. “I don’t want any of it.” Bilbo said, taking the recently vacated chair by the fire. Thorin didn’t look surprised, but clearly the others weren’t as familiar with Hobbit customs as the king was. “But that’s not right, laddy, you’re entitled to your share!” Balin exclaimed, his moral compass alarmed at the perceived injustice. “Don’t let Bifur get in your head, he doesn’t always say what he means.” Balin assured, thinking Bilbo was scared of taking his share because of the other dwarf.

Bilbo smiled at the advisor’s kindness, though it wasn’t needed. “Thank you, master Balin. But that is not why I will not be taking ‘my share’, I simply don’t need it.” Bilbo waved a hand nonchalantly, deeming that part of the conversation over. He wasn’t a poor hobbit by any means, and he certainly didn’t see the need to pursue even more gold. That just wasn’t his people’s way. But he also could understand why the dwarrows couldn’t see it that way. Gandalf had watched the dwarrows and his hobbit friend finalise a new contract, one that suited all of them, and he now sat outside the smial in the very spot Bilbo had been relaxing that same day.

The only light source came from the maia’s pipe, rhythmically lighting the weathered face. The young Bilbo was scarily like his mother. But to Gandalf, that wasn’t a bad thing. It only meant that the Dwarrows were sure to be in for quite the adventure. Gandalf chuckled, smoke puffing from his wizened lips to be carried away on the cool night winds. Yes, he was certainly looking forward to it.


	4. Onward!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this in one go, i was just so in the mood. so i apologise if it is messy, i just wanted to get it out there before i ran out of steam.

Bilbo knew that this ‘adventure’ would be dangerous and likely to end up with him looking like an overdone steak, but he couldn’t bring himself to decline the offer. Bilbo stared in the mirror at the scars littering his pale skin as he pulled a loose-fitting shirt over his curly head. He couldn’t let them leave the Shire without him, they wouldn’t survive - even if it meant potentially exposing his secret to the people that were most likely to take it the worst. Gandalf had been right about one thing, they needed him. Though, to be honest, the old fool always seemed to be right in the long run. He was a master of Hindsight, without it actually happening yet. Did that mean he was a seer? Bilbo snorted, right. No, it was most likely the maia had lived for so long that he had seen and done it all before - knew from experience.

But Bilbo had experience, too. Just maybe not on the same scope as his old friend. He had been on many an adventure - though Gandalf had never been the one to take him. His nature demanded the land be explored, things learned and felt first-hand rather than being read in a book or heard by others and in his younger years that had proved almost fatal at one point. Bilbo put a hand over the bite mark on his left hip, now concealed by the blue cloth of his shirt. That hadn’t stopped him, though. The fight, the survival, the feeling of handing over your life to Lady Fate was more intoxicating than the best dwarvish brew. And so each time he had accumulated more and more scars that represented his strength, cunning and wild spirit. That was why he had so readily agreed to this latest quest. 

He wanted to feel it again, the rush of doing something dangerous just for the sake of it. His mother had often thought he was a strange child, climbing the tallest trees only to fall due to one thing or another. His fingers would be slippery with sap or the other fauntlings would throw rocks to try and  _ make  _ him fall so they could laugh to hide their inherent fear of him. Even then, he was not subscribed to the docile ways of his kin and that was unnatural, thus he was scorned and feared. But his mother had loved him anyway, often admiring what she called his ‘wild heart’ and wishing she was young again so she may bring him on one of Gandalf’s famous adventures. True to rumour, Gandalf had been whisking bright-eyed fauntlings away from their homes long before he came to Bilbo’s doorstep. His mother had been one of them and she always said it had changed her life forever, gave her a new way to see things. For all his meddling, she had loved him for that.

Bilbo was brought out of his fond thoughts by the curse of a very familiar voice. Biblo smiled viciously as he slid into a pair of comfortable boots. Let it not be said that his mother hadn’t prepared him for dealing with her favourite wizard. She may have loved him the way a little girl loves her father, but that didn’t mean she had been blind to his tricks and she made sure Bilbo wasn’t either. There was a groan from the bathroom that had Bilbo cackling madly as he strolled down the hallway to make breakfast, all pretense of a polite host shattered in lieu of his dark humour. The Dwarves all shuddered from behind closed doors as they, too, prepared for the long journey ahead. Fili and Kili made a special note to never cross this particular Hobbit with any of their pranks. From the sound of poor Gandalf’s struggle, it would not end well for them.

Bilbo hummed merrily to himself as he fried up some eggs and bacon along with slices of fresh toast and orange juice to wash it all down. They would need their strength today, and the greasy protein would help assuage the mighty hangovers some of the men were sure to have after last night. “That smells delicious!” Dwalin exclaimed, mouth already watering at the sight of everything laid out on the table. How the little halfling had managed to get everything cooked and on the table in such a short time was beyond him. Maybe he was the wizard after all. It would certainly explain what’s wrong with Gandalf, Bilbo had cast a curse on him. When said suspected wizard turned to him, Dwalin was quick to bow as he offered the normal pleasantries of the morning.

He was rewarded with a smile and a big heaping pile of eggs and bacon, the plate full of steaming toast was set within easy reach. “Thank you, Master Baggins.” Dwalin rushed out, eager to shovel the entire plate down his gullet. But he knew that would look unseemly and so took his time, savouring the taste and the warm full feeling it left in his stomach. They wouldn’t be getting this kind of thing on the road, from here on out it would be salt-dried meats and stale bread or thin watery soups if things got really bad. It was only when everyone had was seated and eagerly devouring their meal that Gandalf finally stumbled out of the bathroom, looking pale and shaky like he’d just gotten over a horrible sickness. Bilbo openly smirked at the maia as the wizard eyed the grease dripping from the bacon with mild disgust.

“You don’t look well, old friend. What happened?” He asked with innocent concern, though the evil grin on his face kind of ruined the farce. Gandalf’s eyes widened as he put two and two together and then growled out a swear in another language before plopping down into an empty seat. Watching the exchange, Thorin couldn’t help but smirk into his mug of coffee. Finally, there was someone that could bring the meddling old man down a peg or two. Still, that same thought also scared him. If he could slip something like that past a wizard as old and wise as Gandalf, then just what could he accomplish if Thorin or any of his men were standing in the face of the Hobbit’s ire? He shivered at the thought, both nervous and excited to find out. If anything, the next few years were going to be entertaining in the very least.

The chatter in the room resumed once Bilbo had given Gandalf a plate and a little something to reverse the effects of his earlier punishment. The maia had learned his lesson, of that, Bilbo was sure. The wizard in question took the offered food warily, casting all sorts of detection spells, even going so far as to get one of the others to test the cup of ginger water before drinking it. Bilbo couldn’t say that he wasn’t amused, if not a little guilty at the way Gandalf looked at him now. It seemed to only unnerve him when Bilbo presented him with a kindness that had been thoroughly absent in his revenge. The maia would just have to accept that he wasn’t the docile little Hobbit he had been expecting. He was a Took after all. “Really, Gandalf you should know better. You practically raised my mother.” It wasn’t a lie, with the amount of ‘adventures’ they had gone on together they had spent more time together than Bilbo’s grandparents would have liked. It just wasn’t a respectable passtime for a growing Hobbit to be out dallying across the land, skipping lessons and daily duties to instead fight monsters and hunt for treasure.

Of course, his mother had only been a fauntling then, their adventures would have been child’s play compared to the journey they were about to embark on. The remark only served to make the maia pout and Bilbo shook his head with a startled laugh. For an old man, he sure acted like a child sometimes. Though this was entertaining, Bilbo knew that he needed to go to the market to pick up a few things before they left. “I need to go to the market to stock up on supplies, I suggest you all do the same. You don’t know when you will get another chance.” Bilbo instructed, ignoring the narrowed stare of the leader of this group. Evidently Thorin didn’t like anyone else making the decisions. That would have to change, if Bilbo was going to be able to stand being in his presence for an extended period of time.

Only Dwalin ended up joining the Hobbit and between them they managed to get everything in time to meet the others on the road. Thankfully, they had retrieved his bag from his room along with the satchel full of herbs and spices. Dwalin immediately swung up onto the horse waiting patiently next to Thorin while Bilbo was left with...a pony. He pretended not to see the smug look on Gandalf’s face as he cautiously approached the mare. She eyed him distrustfully, no doubt sensing his otherness, but she didn’t buck him off when he mounted her. She was a smart girl, he could tell by the way she easily navigated through the herd of larger horses while also never so much as jostling Bilbo seated on her back. She also knew enough that even though she could sense he wasn’t just a Hobbit, she knew he wouldn’t hurt her.

Nori had been surprised when he went to get Bilbo’s things, the hobbit had packed light, only taking the absolute essentials. A novice adventurer would have surely made the mistake of dragging down his horse, taking anything he could fit into the sole bag Thorin would allow. That made it obvious that Bilbo had been on long journey’s before - dangerous ones if the knives hidden on his person were anything to go by. He didn’t outwardly appear to be armed, only Nori’s considerable experience in the art of observation had been able to pick it up. Yes, there was definitely something more to their new thief than what he was telling them. Nori thought that he wouldn’t like the new addition to their company, fearful that he was being replaced and also jealous that both Thorin and Gandalf seemed to think another thief was necessary - a Hobbit at that!

But Nori was beginning to see the benefit of having Bilbo along, if only for the puzzle he presented. Nori still believed that he would be just fine stealing the Arkenstone on his own. He wasn’t called the best thief in the blue mountains for nothing. So he made sure to keep an eye on the halfling, to see how he would prove his worth. It was hours before they made it out of the Shire. And it was fast approaching night when Thorin ordered them to set up camp for the night. Everyone was glad to be off their horses and on solid ground again, their bums and thighs stiff and sore from the inactivity. Except Biblo, he seemed right as rain when he dismounted from his pony. It only convinced Nori more that this wasn’t the first time Bilbo had been in this situation. 

With a quiet word to Thorin, Bilbo went off hunting, they hadn’t stopped long enough for him to get his seven meals in. He just hoped that eating a large meal now would last him till the morning. Once deep in the forest and away from the others, Bilbo closed his eyes and  _ listened _ . The night critters were just coming out to play, the bigger prey wandering around, some to go and sleep while others stayed to eat. In another moment Bilbo heard what he had been looking for; elk. There was a whole herd of them drinking at a nearby brook. Bilbo wound his way through the mess of shrubs and vines that populated the undergrowth of the large birch trees, their trunks sticking out of the greenery like pale, bone-white fingers. He did this soundlessly and with an ease that came with years of practice. Soon he was within sight of the deer and his mouth started to water. He knew the others would be having dinner soon, but he needed something now, and he also thought they would appreciate some venison. If there was any left when he was done.

Swift and quiet as any good predator was, Bilbo snatched the biggest doe out of the herd and snapped her neck. It was all done so seamlessly the other deer hadn’t even stirred as he dragged his bounty back to camp to cook it up. He went hunting so close to dinner because he knew that not much was passed around as they had to ration it. They couldn’t run out of food before they had even really begun their trip. But Bilbo needed more than that, especially after not getting to eat more than a few bits of jerky and some cheese. “Where the hell did you get that?!” Balin exclaimed, somewhat awed. The lad had only been gone for half an hour and he was already back with such a huge doe. And there was no obvious sign of injury to the animal either. Balin was astounded, when he had heard that particular stipulation, Balin had thought the lad would only be able to catch berries and maybe some frogs if he was fast enough. He hadn’t expected a simple Hobbit from the  _ Shire  _ of all places to be so proficient in something like hunting.

Thorin was similarly wowed by the bounty slung easily over the Hobbit’s back, though he hid it better. Gandalf just looked proud, with a tinge of smugness. It had been him that had taught Belladonna how to hunt. She had obviously passed that on to Bilbo. The Hobbit in question simply rolled his eyes before sitting down by the fire with his kill, skinning it and removing the organs, setting aside the edible ones as he probed for any sort of disease. At the longing look Dwalin was sending him, Bilbo nodded, resolved to share it with the rest of them. He eyed the morsels the others had been forced to call ‘dinner’ with distaste. It looked like he was going to devastate the wildlife populations with how much hunting he would need to do just so they didn’t burn out their supplies before they really needed them. That hadn’t been in the contract and truthfully, he hadn’t thought of that. Before he had only ever travelled by himself, he hadn’t needed to worry about that sort of thing.

After dinner, with the warmth of the fire and full bellies, it wasn’t long before most of the company was asleep. Bilbo was one of the only ones still awake, staring into the fire as he remembered the last time he had left the Shire. The sounds of a blazing fire on the warpath intent on consuming everything in sight and horrible screams bounced around his mind as shadows flickered in his eyes. His reverie was interrupted then, by a deep voice humming a familiar tune - something he had heard on one of his travels. He knew the words, though he didn’t think Thorin would appreciate a Hobbit desecrating what had become his kingdom’s anthem after their defeat to Smaug. And didn’t that thought electrify his nerves? The thought of stealing from a dragon, the most possessive creatures in history. The survival rate of that was not historically high and he couldn’t help the thrill that went racing up Bilbo’s spine.

He took a deep breath and blew it out through his nose before turning on his side, away from where Thorin was stationed near a boulder. He listed off to sleep listening to the melody coming from the dwarf king’s lips. He had a nice voice, Bilbo thought, he should sing more often. And that was his last thought before he was carried off into darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo!   
> Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Any suggestions? Maybe we could brainstorm on motivations, character reactions, plot lines? Critiques? universe lore? It keeps me motivated to keep writing as I always start of with only a vague idea of what I want - which would leave a lot up to debate!
> 
> So come! Discuss with me! I would highly appreciate it!


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